


Hades' Pomegranate

by BlueRam



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Magic, Crime, Crime Scenes, Dark Harry Potter, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, M/M, Male/Male, NOT Evil Harry, Not Canon Compliant, ambiguous morals, elements of death, magic does exist though, no wizarding world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRam/pseuds/BlueRam
Summary: There is nothing sweeter than a little death. Or is there? Dick Grayson desperately tries to unravel a series of seemingly unrelated murders that have suddenly plagued Bludhaven. And through it all a man with unknown motives. A man whose name is…just Harry.{ A gift for Thalia}





	Hades' Pomegranate

_He’s bad…_

_Dangerous…_

_Seduction in the highest order…_

_I should be scared…_

_But I think I like it…_

He shouldn’t be here, he knew it shouldn’t but…he needed a break. Anything to remove the sting of failure and bone-crushing feeling of defeat.  Dick sluggishly swirled his glass of cheap liquor, the ice inside clinking against the glass before lazily sliding to the bottom of the drink. Around him, the lights dimmed. The beat of seductive drums low and mellow, blending with the hypnotic twist of music only meant for the underground.

Only meant for a place like this.

Sharp blue eyes barely gave his surroundings a second glance. The gyrating bodies of young teens that shouldn’t be in a place like this. High on the beat of the music as the wrapped their sweat-slicked bodies around each other. Moved like a hive that surrounded their queen. Eyes of bliss with the whispers of sins escaping their lips. Tempted away by the sweet words of men and women much too old for them. Much too experienced.

He should care. But for just a moment none of it mattered. Not when he had—

Dick slammed the glass against the counter. Cheap whisky spilling over his hand and staining marble counters. The bartender didn’t say a word. Quietly cleaning up the mess, a shake of his head when carefully hidden bouncers watched ever alert.  Ready to remove any possible threat to their staff.

Pretty boy or not.

“They say, the eyes are the windows to the soul. I wonder what truth lies in the frozen glaciers of your blue eyes, pretty boy.” The voice was silky smooth. Deep, dark…whispery as it caressed your soul and bid you reveal all your secrets. Soft poison to the ear as it dared you to look. To lose yourself and give all that you were in a single breath.

Dick couldn’t explain the sudden tenseness. Explain why sweat slicked the back of his neck and his breath felt shallow. Even if he remained as stone-faced as he had walked into this particular establishment. The bartender had replaced his drink by now, and the hypnotic hook of an electrical guitar seemingly faded into the background. He slowly looked from the corner of his eyes to his sudden companion.

Flowing black hair. Pitch black that it almost glistened blue in the dim light of the underground club he had secured himself in. Waves upon waves. Chaotic as it tumbled down his back. Sharp cheekbones. High like those of the aristocrats. Full lips painted blood red, almost black, stretched in a conniving smile.

Pale, snow white skin. Startling green eyes, dark and consuming. An endless abyss that could suck the life out of any woman, any man as they slyly looked his way.

“But then again. The eyes are the windows to lies and deceit. They perceive the world through an expertly trained gaze. They are blind to the makings of the world. Her beauty…her terrifying ugliness.”

“You almost sound like you believe what you’re saying,” Dick scoffed, knocking down his new glass of…whisky it was this time. Cheap whisky, burning his throat and warming his chest. Almost vile, unlike the refined distillery of Wayne Manor. A home he had left years ago. The shadow of the ever-looming bat at times proved most consuming. Stealing what little life he still owned.

Could claim as his own.

He found the sudden laugh beside him irritating. Not in the way that he wanted to punch the man. No, more in the way that he wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery!

“Don’t I?” The man gave a mocking smile, barely acknowledging the bartender that placed a startling red drink before him.  It was strangely thick, smelling of iron and something rich. The man slowly traced the rim of his glass with a black painted nail. Long with sharp tips, an oddly shaped ring resting on his delicate index finger.

“Look! I don’t know what you want, but I’m not looking for company tonight! If you would do me a favour and—” Dick started angrily. Icy blue eyes steeped with coldness he wasn’t much known for when young but had quickly become a part of him. He had become disillusioned with the life of a hero. There was no glory to be had, no happiness. What point was it to play hero when he couldn’t save one—

Green eyes swiftly pinned him in place. Alight with something terrifyingly unholy and callous. Seemingly tearing through his very existence! His glass fell from his hand. The sound drowned in the sudden wave of music that returned to existence. Blaring guitars and quick-paced drums. Bodies caught in a spell that spiralled out of control. Raucous laughter loud in the air, with the choking smell of cigarette smoke and burning cannabis.

“You couldn’t have saved her, Nightwing,” the whisper of his name leaving blood red lips startled him. As much as the drunk couple that fell between both men, blocking his view as they giggled helplessly and fell over each other on a lone bar stool. He swiftly stood, willing them to get out of his way! His heart hammered in his chest. Blue eyes flickering around in an unusual panic as he wondered if anyone had heard. The couple still blocked his view! He could only see glimpses of pale skin and a distinctive scar that he had somehow missed. Saw the movement of a shifting body ready leave

How did this man know him! How did he know about Nightwing?! A secret he had guarded close to his chest. The growling whispers of his guardian’s words echoing in his mind when young and foolish!

_One way or another…_

_I’m going to find you…_

_I’m going to get you…_

The music was raw and dark. Consuming as he desperately stood from his seat, pushing the couple out of his way. He didn’t care for their shouts of outrage and indignation. Frantically searching for a man who was no longer there! An empty glass with red lipstick left on the counter.

“That man! Who was he?!” Dick shouted desperately when the bartender appeared, picking up the empty glass with careful large hands. The man looked at him as if he were mad. Backing away quickly and almost stumbling over a bottle that had rolled to the floor when he wasn’t looking.

“You alright man? No one was there!” The bartender stammered, eyes nervously signalling to the bouncers who for once seemed distracted. They didn’t notice the man’s calls for help.

“Of course he was! I was just talking to him!” Dick shouted angrily. Patrons of the club finally taking notice. Whispering behind their hands when they realized who it was.

Wasn’t this Dick Grayson? Bruce Wayne’s charge and heir apparent?

“I—I—” The bartender stammered, gripping the dirty glass close to his chest as if it would ward of the obviously intoxicated and raging mad Wayne heir.

“Is there a problem here?” A heavy hand landed on Dick’s shoulder. Said man shrugged it off angrily, turning to see two bouncers playing a desperate part of intimidation.

It was then that he realised he was gaining quite a few stares. Not what he had been going for when he fled to some seedy club he had no business visiting?

“No, there isn’t.” With that flicked off the invisible dust on his shoulders and pushed past the bouncers. He would have to pay out some heavy cash tonight to keep his visit here out of the media and from the higher-ups.

He could just imagine the district chief raving about decorum and compartment. Or how his very existence ruined the face of the Bludhaven police.

The chilly night air licked against his skin, and he slowly released a shuddering breath. The air fresh, clean. Much better than the air inside the club. Far removed from the air he remembered in Gotham city.

“You couldn’t save her… because she was on our list. As is one more and two after that.” Dick froze at that silky voice. Desperately searching through the dark night to find the man. That strange man.

“Who are you?!” Dick shouted in the night air. No matter where his eyes would land, no matter how he spun in circles desperately searching. The man was not to be found.

Yet, his voice echoed around him. Sweet and mocking.

“You couldn’t save her, Nightwing. Such despair, such tragedy.” Laughter echoed, ringing loud and clear.

“Reveal yourself! Who are you?” Dick ignored the constant buzz of his pager. Glaring when he noticed the unusual shadow that lingered in the alley a distance away. A streetlight flickered on and off. The static buzz loud in his ear as he inched forward, a few moths colliding with the warmth of the light bulb and falling dead. A light wind caressed his skin, softly whistling as it played with his dark hair. A warning maybe, as the light went out and the shadow still lingered.

Yet, he inched forward.

He would find out who this was? How they knew him, the  _other_ him? How did they know about the girl he could not save? The one that landed him in this club drinking his sorrows away. A mission he had failed first as an officer of the law and second as a hero of the night. Flashes of her bloodied face, frozen in agony invaded his thoughts.

Suddenly, too quick to even react, the shadow moved to his back. Warm breath whispered against his ear, and thin arms draped across his broad shoulders.

“Harry…Potter. You can call me Harry, pretty boy.”

A bone-chilling laughter echoed through the streets as the man suddenly disappeared and the light flickered on bright and blinding. Dick hissed in pain, shielding his eyes from the sting. His pager blaring louder than ever.

“Just Harry,” an echoing whisper that soon faded as the club doors sprung open and crowds upon crowds of chattering people left. In the far end of town, the grand clock would chime loud and clear.

It was 12 midnight.

Dick stood, eyes narrowed and hands clenched.

Who was this man?

Who was this… _Harry_?

**Author's Note:**

> So let me know what you all think, especially you Thalia as this is a gift for you. Intended this to be a one-shot, but...well let's not go there. *sheepish grin* I don't intend for these chapters to be too long though, at least not at this point as I juggle multiple stories. CROSS being my main one. So yeah, enough of my nervous rambling...


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